What does closet contentment feel like for you? Peace? Ease? Simply the absence of want? I had planned to share a post all about what I’ve lovingly deemed my “closet Achilles heel” with you all today. A simple story about mistakes, growth, and sentimentality in my lean closet journey. However, that fairly straight forward idea came out in a tangled mess of thoughts, seemingly disparate and unrelated, until I realized they aren’t. For clarity’s sake I’ll walk you through where this one started before showing you what I mean.

I was going to write today about how of all the things I’ve been able to part with, and of all the bad habits I’ve managed to break, I cannot seem to limit my collection of outwear, specifically lightweight jackets and blazers. They are undoubtedly a part of my uniform; looks often feel unfinished without a coat or jacket of sorts. Luckily the northern California weather is more than obliging when it comes to the need for a warm layer. I was going to write about this collection of coats as a weakness in my quest to live with less. It’s a blemish in my commitment to be content with a lean closet. But it’s actually more than that. Turns out I’m not solely drawn to outwear for its sartorial appeal. The ugly truth is that my amassing of outer layers is driven by insecurity. I consistently don a blazer or coat because they hide the parts of myself I don’t particularly care for, and don’t want others to see. And until I grapple with those very real insecurities, my want for blazers and trenches will continue to be insatiable.

So here’s my ‘a ha’ (or duh) moment for the day: when insecurities are in the driver’s seat, it’s damn near impossible to avoid fashion’s most classic ruse - buying X will make you Y. Feeling unhappy with some part of yourself? There’s a quick fix for that and wouldn’t you believe it, it’s on sale!

Intellectually I know that contentment and self-satisfaction are not purchasable; they will never be found in a thing that you can buy. Emotionally, however, sometimes I forget. It’s easy to buy into (literally and figuratively) the idea that the only thing standing between what I see reflected in the mirror now and what I want to see is owning that new (fill in the blank). Even if that thing is ethically-made and environmentally friendly, it’s an unhealthy approach to shopping and completely antithetical to my lean closet mission. It’s the same demon that brought me to the capsule wardrobe world in the first place, just shrouded in ethically-made garb. Owning more stuff will not eradicate my insecurities, more often than not it exacerbates them.

So where does that leave me? I suppose it’s time to look inward, instead of toward what’s sitting unpurchased in online shopping carts. I certainly don’t have it all figured out yet, but I know that a new look is not, and will never be a solution. You can’t hang happiness up in a closet.

My rationale for filling my closet with pieces from small, mostly female-owned businesses is pretty straight forward: I care about people. I care about the women in my immediate community, and throughout the country. I care about the women and dudes who sew the things I put on my body. I care about their quality of life, their children’s quality of life, and their safety. It really boils down to the simple acknowledgement that we as humans all deserve the same amount of respect and dignity. No piece of clothing is more important than a person’s life.

Luckily, I’m not the only one who feels this way. To say that I admire Jesse Kamm would be a bit of an understatement. Not only does she own and design her own exquisite made-in-California line, but she is fierce in her convictions (especially on the sustainability front), sharp as all hell, and somehow seems to exude both grace and strength in everything she does. If you’re not familiar, just spend a few minutes acquainting yourself with her style, or read a few interviews and you’ll see what I mean. I adore the way she plays around with handsome yet femme looks, while striking a perfectly laid-back California vibe. Also, she and her husband built (with their own two hands) an off the grid home in Panama where they spend summers surfing with their son. It’s all too much.

When I first laid eyes on Jesse Kamm’s infamous sailor pants, I knew I had to have them. They are to many people (myself included), a paragon of the slow fashion, minimalist scene. But beyond the gorgeous colors and highly flattering effect they have on one's derriere, I am deeply attracted to the story they embody. Kamm started her company 12 years ago, and was its sole employee for the first decade of its existence. She sewed her pieces herself in her California studio, and still hand delivers orders to local stockists. She touts minimalism in a way that doesn’t make it feel cold or unobtainable – she merely gets what she needs, is resourceful with how she maintains what she owns, and looks for opportunities to slow things down and savor. Strength and grace, right?

Now, for the investment. Perhaps this will come as a surprise to you, but my Kamm pants (which retail for $395) are not brand new. While I am still saving up for a pair in midnight blue, I’m also operating on a nonprofit salary, meaning the saving is steady, but slow. In the meantime, I happened across a pair of slightly worn Salt White pants for sale on Instagram of all places, and jumped at the chance to snatch a pair up for myself at a deep discount. While they did have some stains on the knees, and a yellowed (maybe bleach?) mark on the side of leg, I worked at them for several days with baking soda and hydrogen peroxide and I’m proud to say the pants now look brand new. There’s not a stain in sight. It somehow feels aligned with Kamm’s whole mission – the pants needed some work so I got resourceful, put in some serious hours, and now get to reap the benefits with enormous appreciation and satisfaction.

I posted on Instagram a while ago to publicly celebrate the amazing slow fashion mavens out there who are getting vocal during this tumultuous time in our country’s history. I’m proud to support people who use their gifts, or their platform to contribute to the greater good. Kamm is no exception. Her journal posts are not to be missed. I know they are pants, but buying into what Kamm is creating (even if through a local SF seller for this first pair) feels bigger than what any one closet can contain.

I'd like to take a moment to touch on another Kamm note. One of the biggest ethical issues I grapple with these days is how to consistently support local businesses in the age of fast fashion and Amazon. Add San Francisco’s gentrification issues into the mix and the whole thing becomes even murkier. Here’s what Kamm says on the matter:

“My home town is still quaint, but the charm is far less tender. It was the Walmart that did it in, and the fast-food chains. By buying into the slightly lower cost of the goods at these corporate chains, we forgot about the greater cost to our community. The cost to the pride of the people who owned those shops, and the people who worked there. It was convenient to go to the Walmart and the Hardee's, but we forgot about the great inconvenience it would later create once our community had lost the very soul that made it so special.”

I don’t know what San Francisco’s soul looks like these days. I know many feel that it has been irreparably damaged, if not lost completely—its vibrancy and grungy charm all but extinguished as the cost of living continues to climb. We’re not waging a war against big box stores the same way small towns have and do, but we are losing longstanding institutions all the same. Even having spent just six years in our little neighborhood, the transformation has been astounding. Where once stood dollar stores and cheap eats now live trendy boutiques and wine bars. I will not feign naïveté while bemoaning their existence; I know they were built for me.

My task then becomes to invest in the longstanding small businesses that are still around, while supporting the new up-and-comers that are doing their part to try and thwart the spread of the big box/Amazon/fast fashion ethos. This is what I consider when bringing things into our home. I want my to consumer choices to fuel something larger, something bigger, something better. If I get the greatest pair of pants I’ve ever worn out of the deal, then that’s just icing on the cake.

I'm sitting here with a candle burning and Bonnie Raitt playing on the record player. It's a still morning. We've had a break in the rain for the past few days, but the air outside feels like there's another storm on the way. I've gone to sleep dreaming of snowy weekends. Friends and I have been lamenting the current state of the country, and exploring new ways to firmly entrench ourselves in resistance. There's so much energy. So much anguish. A lot of love.

The concept of self-care seems to be extra buzzy right now. While I acknowledge the importance of taking time to rest and recenter, the term has become a little irritating, if only from overuse. I like to think of the moments I take for myself, or with Ryan, to be the sweetly and carefully considered finishing touches to our otherwise busy and action-packed days. The finishing touches - like adding the perfect accessory to a tried and true outfit - are what pulls it all together and keeps you coming back for more. There's a lot of joy to be derived from the details. Here are a few of my favs:

HOME: Candles

While I am trying to live within my means, and stick to a budget, I am someone who regularly splurges on candles. There is nothing that makes me happier than lighting a candle in our clean apartment and letting the warm and spicy scent fill our cozy little space. Lighting one of my favorite candles signifies that it's time to unwind. Something about sage and patchouli and cedar (my favorite combo) transports me back to my childhood in Malibu, but I can tell that the smells are also imprinting themselves in the moment. Years from now I hope the smell of cedar and amber and moss take me back to our little love-filled San Francisco apartment. Do you all have crazy strong associations with fragrances? They are so strongly tied to memory for me - inextricably linked and forever intertwined. It's crazy how much of an impact such a seemingly small home detail can have on my mind and mood. The finishing touches! Favorites are linked below.

CLOTHES: Hats

I'm sure that most of you at this point know that hats are my jam. I have a relatively small noggin and straight, often volumeless hair, so I use hats to help me balance out proportions. Truth be told I think a good hat brings a certain polish (be it preppy or boho) to any look. Many a day while trying different outfits I'll notice that something feels undone, and then find that a hat is what's needed to pull the look together. My favorites as of late have all been from Janessa Leone (I own Ila and Camellia - both bought on serious sale), and I loved her recent 'fewer things, higher quality' campaign. Janessa's hats are dreamed up and created in California, and I can't wait to get my hands on one of her straw pieces this summer. The sweater below is from Ali Golden.

LIFE: Letters

Ever since I picked up a few copies of Celeste's Oceans postcard calendar, I've delighted in writing handwritten letters to friends, family, and even foes (jk, kinda). It didn't hurt that the first action of the 10 actions/ 100 days campaign was to write postcards to elected officials. Writing to friends and family is such a sweet and often overlooked way to remind the people you love that you're thinking about them. In the days of emoji and meme conversations, I have thoroughly enjoyed taking the time to sit down and write to, and on behalf of the people I care about. It's a finishing touch, or a bit of self-care, that has a rippling effect - I feel good writing them, others feel nice receiving them. Win win.

Celeste Noche Photography

Unfortunately Celeste's calendar is all sold out, but I encourage you to support an artist in your community and then spread the snail mail love!